From Hell, With Love ― ( Chai & Alkaline )

[Chai]

"¿Qué chingados te pasa?"

A man leaned out of the driver's side window, screaming more profanities in Spanish as Chloe crossed the street. She had been too absorbed in her own sadness to notice the crosswalk signal was still red, and it wasn't until a pickup came to a screeching halt a few feet back that she was jolted out of her thoughts. Dazed, she stared for a few moments until he blared his horn, slamming one hand on the wheel and waving the other to shoo her forward. She clutched her coat and stumbled forward, barely out of harm's way before the pickup driver stepped on the gas and sent his tires squealing forward.

Chloe sighed, taking a right when she reached the sidewalk. She was walking aimlessly, trying desperately to keep her mind and day occupied by everything except him, but whatever effort she put in was never enough. It was early February but still cold in Houston, and it seemed like everywhere she looked there were couples walking, arms and hands intertwined as they enjoyed the city. Even the local boutiques and coffee shops were all decorated for Valentine's Day, with pink and red hearts plastered all over the windows displays.

It was the first Valentine's Day that she was going to spend alone in over 4 years. She tried not to tear up at the thought, but loneliness gnawed inside of her unrelentingly. There was a hole there, and deep inside raged a sea of anger, hurt, pity, and hopelessness among other emotions. At 25, she imagined she would've been married at this age. She was meant to be, anyway, had it not been for Kevin.

Kevin.

Disgust bubbled within her as his name came up, and she frowned at the sidewalk. The two of them had been together since the end of her college years. What had started as a casual midnight snack after a long night of studying had blossomed into a sweet relationship, and later, an engagement. She could still remember the cheers of their family and friends at his elaborate proposal, a scene that rivaled even the best romance movies. Their relationship had been magical, something out of a fairy tale, and like all other fantasies, it had to end. The terrible, life-shattering image of Kevin tenderly kissing another woman -- his coworker no less -- was forever burned into her memory. And as awful as that was, Chloe wasn't prepared for the shame and loneliness that followed. She'd spent so long advocating for him, supporting him, and moving to where his job took him that she hardly new who she was. Life sucked when you had to figure it out on your own.

Chloe was about to take a left to Benny's, her favorite coffee spot, to grab a hot chocolate to lift her spirits when she saw the most curious shop. It was an antique store, one that she hadn't seen before, but it hardly looked new. In fact, as she shuffled to the front door, she saw it looked homey and lived in; the shelves in front were lined with fine china and glassware, with a light layer of dust collecting on the surfaces, and toward the back were ornate furniture that were in desperate need of restoration. She said nothing as she pushed on the door, a little bell just above it echoing her arrival.

The shop smelled of vanilla and tobacco mixed with old parchment, the scent somehow both familiar and exotic all at once. She passed a row of old lanterns hung against a wall, and then another of old tapestries with the strangest symbols embroidered on them. Then her eyes fell on the singular item sitting on the glass counter: a heavy hardbound book with gilded page edges and a Latin inscription on the front that she couldn't read. Jewels inlaid on the front cover glittered even in the low light, and she gingerly reached out to stroke them with her fingertips. It was fun to think they might be real, but how could they be? Not a single soul in their right mind would leave something so valuable out for the taking.

"You like it?"

Chloe spun around, her brown hair whipping around her face, startled at the grimy voice behind her.

"It's a very popular item," he continued when she didn't respond, flashing her a toothy grin that looked more like a grimace.

 

[Alkaline]

Most people would tell you that the worst possible place in all of existence was Hell. For many that was true. It was hot. Unnecessarily so. Probably because of all the fire and lava. But you got used to that, especially if you were a creature born out of the flames themselves. There was also the smell. Sulfuric. Gassy. Farty even. But still, you got used to it. Soon it just was there. And you could exist among the fire and the flames and the rotten ass smell of Hell. At least there were others there. Other demons. Souls to torture (and GOD was it fun to torture someone). There was so much fun to be had in Hell, or pleasure even, if you were a masochist.

And for Ezrael, it was home. And he missed it dearly. It was so much better than the darkness he now found himself in. A darkness that had been all consuming. And empty. And cold. So. FUCKING. Cold.

And he'd been there for so long. How long, you might ask? Ezrael himself couldn't exactly tell you. Maybe it had only been a few weeks, and he'd just gone insane. Maybe it had been a few millennia. In truth, it had been exactly 978 years since he'd been sealed away into oblivion. That damn jezebel of a witch... Ruining his fun. He'd just wanted to kill a few templars. They weren't doing anything worthwhile anyway. But apparently she'd loved one of them. Whatever that meant.

So as it was, the demon sat as he usually did, in the middle of nothing. His finger stirred at what he imagined was sand, but was instead nothing. He closed his eyes and looked up, to what he imagined was a warm sun, but instead was nothing. There was only ever one thing that broke the nothing. The occasional, garbled sounds of distant voices. Oh how he loved those seconds, days, weeks, months (?) when he heard noises. And, it so happened, that today was one of those days, weeks, months, etc. Time made little sense now.

But then, something truly new happened. As Ezrael craned his neck upward towards the infinite black abyss of a sky, he found himself suddenly bathing in a ruby red light. A ceiling was even visible. Crystalline in design. And on the other side was a face. Distorted through the angled glass like exterior, but the demon could make out the features of a woman. Beautiful, with big dark eyes. But as soon as she was there, she was gone again.

And on the other side of existence, the shop keeper's eyes went wide. One of the girl's fingers had drifted over the ruby encrusted in the cover, and unbeknownst to her, the gemstone had glowed ever so briefly. That cursed book never would sell. He'd had it for years, and anyone with a curiosity in it was repulsed by it once they'd set their hands on it. It had certainly never glowed though. That was new. That was promising.

"Despite the popularity, it's never quite found a buyer," the man said as he sauntered to Chloe's side. "But you? You, it fits. It's said to be cursed though, I should warn. Or... More accurately, contains a series of curses. Ancient ones. Spells too, but you can find spell books on the internet these days for a measly penny or two. This, this is truly special," he added, leaning down as a hand briefly touched the cover, only to recoil as if the leather binding had burned the man. Yet, curiously enough, it seemed that the woman was unaffected. "For you... Twenty dollars. I know... You're practically robbing me. But I've... I've got a feeling you could use the powers inside of this. What do you say, deary?" he hissed between his teeth, while trying to hide his predatory gaze.

 

[Chai]

"You want to sell me... a cursed book?" Chloe wasn't sure she'd heard him right. She didn't know whether to laugh or give him a look, so she did both, her face wrinkling slightly as she swallowed a snort. "A book with curses in it. And spells. With powers.” The more she spoke the sillier the words sounded, but she found the shopkeeper ecstatically nodding along.

“Yes, yes!” He said, gesturing at the book with his hands. “Powers! The legends say it can give you whatever your heart desires. You just need to recite the incantation. Don’t you want that?”

Chloe simply stared. “What if I don’t?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear, everybody wants something. Fame, fortune, a new house, a new car. What it is you really want in this world?”

Nothing, she wanted to say, but her delayed reaction said otherwise. Face flushing red, she stammered and mumbled her way through an unintelligible response before settling in silence. It seemed there was something she wanted. She wanted her old life back. She wanted love. She wanted Kevin to see that she was fine without him, that she never needed him. And she wanted so badly for all of that to be true.

The old man’s face glinted with recognition, his smile touching the corners of his eyes. “Everything you've ever wanted... only 20 dollars,” he repeated, eyes flicking down to where Chloe's hand lay on the book. She may not have noticed it, but her fingers were tracing the grooves of the cover possessively like it was already hers. The shopkeeper grinned widely now. Her mind was already made up, and it was only a short time before she hesitantly dropped a twenty on the counter.

"You won't regret it," the man said as he practically shoved the bill inside the cash box of the register, and then snapped it closed with a loud 'thud'. He hastily walked to where the girl stood and gently touched her arm, guiding her to the door as she dropped the heavy book inside the canvas tote bag hanging off her shoulder. "Now if you don't mind, miss, we're closed for the evening."

"Wait, wait." Chloe craned her head to look at him, half of her body already outside the threshold. "Which spell? How will I know?

"You'll know, deary... you'll know." The shopkeeper flashed her another wicked smile. "Oh, and all sales are final," he added before pulling the heavy wooden doors shut, the lock clicking into place, and the lights inside going dark.

It was another hour before Chloe reached home, having walked back to her car and then fought through stop-and-go traffic back to the quiet suburbs. It was hardly rush hour -- the clock in her car had read 7:00pm -- but the Friday evening meant everyone was in hurry to go into the city for some weekend fun. She parked her black Honda in front of the house she rented; she hadn't been exactly broke since moving out of her old place, but Kevin had made substantially more than she had. In the end, she'd traded their luxury apartment in midtown for a renovated 1980s monstrosity that admittedly looked better on the inside than it did out.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself after the automated keypad on the front door glitched yet again. Another thing the landlord would have to look at. But a rough jingle of the house keys later, she was inside, greeted by the smell of her vanilla candles and the meowing of her cat, Basil. Miraculously, Kevin had agreed to let her keep the cat, but she suspected it was because he had never liked her anyway.

Her stomach growled, but it could wait. Instead, Chloe dumped the contents of her bag out onto the dining table, the book spilling out unceremoniously onto the wooden surface. The jewels on the cover were even more beautiful illuminated by the bright recessed lighting of her kitchen, and she sighed once more in appreciation before opening the front cover. It was all written in intricate, hand-lettered Latin that she couldn't read, with a few pages full of drawings of symbols that she couldn't quite make out. She'd actually purchased the damned thing in a moment of weakness, and now she was out 20 dollars. Useless, she thought bitterly, fucking useless.

One of her hands slid under the spine of the book as if to snap it shut, but the pages fluttered, seemingly of their own accord, finally landing on one in the middle. She assumed it was a spell -- not that she would've known any better if it wasn't -- but it looked short enough. She bit her lip, suddenly self-conscious. Thankfully there was only Basil to hear her trip over the Latin, and after taking a deep breath she did the only thing that was left to do: read.

 

[Alkaline]

Scrambling to his feet, Ezrael tried to run towards the light. His feet slid upon nothingness, unable to gain traction as the voices in the distance continued. His hands clawed at the air, and the ground, and then he was upside down, floating in a gravity-less space. Twisting and flailing and watching the sky above disappear again, the ruby glow fading into darkness. And with it, the voices.

"FUCK YOU!" Ezrael shouted into the void, the sound of his voice echoing far more than it had any right to do. But as the demon spun lazily, he sighed and let himself go limp, limbs drifting until he came to a stop again. Well, at least it had been something. Proof that he wasn't dead. Proof that there was an escape... It gave him something to hold onto. A pair of beautiful eyes, looking down at him from above.

He expected another century or two would pass before he was graced with something as interesting as the woman behind the ruby sky. Yet, shockingly, it seemed he had but an hour to wait instead. Just as he had started to drift off into what he assumed was some form of sleep, Ezrael heard a voice whispering behind his ear. Eye snapped open, and he turned quickly. Nothing.

And yet, they continued. Latin words long forgotten by most. A clever turn of phrase that was suddenly so familiar to him now. It pulled out him, drawing him upward, stretching him...

Fuck.

Something was wrong. The pull was not even. It was as if his arm was being pulled from it's socket. Every hair on his head being plucked and ripped from his scalp.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck," A primal scream erupted from Ezrael's lungs. And then they were stolen from him. His breath gone as the words continued. His eyes rolled back, and his body convulsed, his tongue swelling. His throat, engorged, felt as if it was being ripped out the back of his neck. Pain consumed him, overwhelmed him, and just before it broke him entirely, a loud shattering noise burst through the air and the paid...

It stopped.

Ezrael was standing now. On actual, solid ground. A hand raised, and he raised a hand in front of his face. The skin was dark as night. Darker even. It was covered in the abyss from whence he'd came. A creature of pure nothingness, he must have seemed. But then he batted his eyes, fluttered them again, and watched it crumble away like ash. Flaking and drifting in an imaginary breeze, then dissipating into nothing. His eyes held the inky darkness longest of all though, only when every other scrap of it was gone, did the iris light with an icy blue stare. A stare that fell downward, to a woman sitting at the table, in front of the very familiar book. Ezrael himself stood on the top of the table, his head narrowly missing the ceiling, and naked as the day he was born.

"Why, hello there. You must be my savior," he whispered, the words seemingly hissed out as he crouched down into a squat, lowering himself to Chloe's eye level, then rotating his head as his neck popped unnaturally. "And what might your name be?"

 

[Chai]

She picked up the book to read, slow and unsure, the words leaving Chloe's mouth in halting Latin that had to be repeated on more than one occasion. It wasn't until she neared the end of the page that her dining room lights flickered—once, twice—followed by gust of air that made her chestnut hair whip wildly around her face. She found herself almost yelling now, alone at the table since Basil had tucked himself away in cat tower on the opposite side of the living room, and the gems on the book glowed with a strange light. Hues of brilliant ruby, sapphire, amethyst, and emerald shone onto the table and walls, the colors fragmenting and reflecting in a dazzling display of color. Then as quickly as it had all started, a sound as loud as a crack of thunder shook the room, and everything stilled.

Quiet. Silence.

It took until her head was spinning for Chloe to realize she'd been holding her breath. Her hands were shaking, still clutching the book, knuckles white from the tension. She sighed, inhaled deep, and then jumped at the voice speaking to her from above.

"What the FUCK!" she yelled as she stumbled backward, tripping over her feet and landing on her ass. The book fell beside her with a heavy thud as it hit the tile. She continued to back away despite being on the floor, shuffling awkwardly, limbs pushing in every direction until her back hit the couch. It was difficult to listen to the man—if that's what he was—through the adrenaline and shock. His lips were moving but she heard nothing.

"Get out, get the fuck out," Chloe said shrilly, her voice shaking as she stuttered and stammered over the words. She was panicking, the pitch of her words rising as she spoke. "I'm calling the police! I'm calling the..." It was only now that she noticed she'd forgotten her phone on the table, and there it lay, right beside the mystery man's foot. Almost simultaneously, she noticed what else was beside her phone and in between his crouched legs. Her face reddened to a deep tomato color, the blush contrasting against her cheeks.

Her hand flew up to shield her eyes from his dick, and she made a point to fix her gaze to the wall on her right. She tried focusing on the hanging photos and prints and less on whoever was in front of her. "Dear god," she muttered more to herself, the whine in her tone reflecting exasperation and defeat. "What's happening?"

 

[Alkaline]

Well that wasn't what he expected.

The shriek. The panic. The absolute terror in her eyes...

"You... Didn't do this on purpose, did you?" Ezra asked, his head tilting to the side as he leaned forward and planted his hands on the table, clambering forward on all fours until his fingers wrapped around the edge of surface. Above her still, his head swiveled to the opposite side, and his torso leaned forward, hovering over the empty space below in some almost unnatural defiance of gravity, before he dropped entirely, catching himself on his hands again before his feet dropped to the ground as well.

"No need to be scared, my pretty little thing..." he hissed, smirking as he moved slowly forward, until he was kneeling at her side now, his hands resting on his thighs, and his cock propped right between them too. A hand reached up, across her face, before a single finger tip pressed to her jaw, tracing the length until adding pressure at her chin to force her eyes to look at him. His touch, she'd notice immediately, was shockingly cold for a moment. When it stopped though, resting on her chin, she'd feel as if it was almost drawing the heat straight from her body, sending a chill down her spine as he simultaneously warmed.

"I'm not here to hurt you. No..." he whispered, his tongue lapping over his lips, his eyes blowing supernaturally bright as they focused on hers for a moment, before the glow in them faded as well. "Not someone so pretty as you. Certainly not someone who was willing to free me. To bond with me... Though something tells me you didn't know..."

Shrugging, the demon backed up and moved into a crisscross seated pose instead, his fingers steepled together as he leaned forward and touched them to his chin. A smirk crawled over his features before he leaned in again and inhaled deeply through his nose, humming in satisfaction and sighing in the process.

"You smell fantastic, pretty girl. What is your name?" he asked, reaching back out to draw the back of his finger across her cheek and to her hair that he twisted softly around the fingertip before dropping it.

 

[Chai]

She swallowed audibly as he came closer, her breath catching in her throat, his finger leaving a tingle that danced across her skin from when he touched her. She said nothing, could say nothing, and only opted to huddle closer to the couch, drawing her knees up to her chest. Her eyes were still fixed upon his, the two of them studying each other— his a playful curiosity while hers reserved and suspicious, and though the initial shock had now worn away, fear was still evident on her face.

"Chloe," she finally answered him a few moments after he released her hair, her voice coming out as barely a whisper. Then she cleared her throat and repeated herself, more confidently this time. "Chloe. You came from… that?" Tearing her gaze away from him, she nodded in the general direction of the book, still split open on the floor from when she's dropped it. The suggestion sounded even more absurd coming from her mouth than when he'd said it, and her brows furrowed in confusion as if to ask, How?

When she turned back to him, she saw him leaning forward again as if to drink in her presence, his eyes closed and the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. He looked young, handsome too, and probably somewhere around her age. Though if he was some sort of supernatural being, who really knew how old he was? Then his lids snapped open, his icy blue eyes boring into her own, and she quickly dropped her gaze... right to his cock. Accidentally, of course, but for a moment she'd forgotten that he was naked. Now she was pulling away from him, suddenly aware that one wrong move could send her hand dangerously close touching it. Touching him.

"Jesus, I can't do this—clothes first," she muttered, obviously embarrassed. "Stay here. I mean it. Don't follow me... I'll be back."

Pushing herself off the floor, she padded over to her bedroom and sighed as she opened the last drawer at the bottom of her dresser. It held all of Kevin's clothes that she managed to collect over the years. They were all meant to be returned, but even through her grief and pain she couldn't bear to let them go. Instead, she'd shoved them in the dark confines of the dresser, telling herself that she wouldn't touch them and that she was only keeping them because it was too much of a hassle to see Kevin again. But she'd already broken that promise, often finding herself holding onto a sweatshirt when she wallowed in her sadness.

Chloe pulled out a pair of black sweatpants, hoping they'd fit the stranger in her living room. He was a bit taller than Kevin, but any clothes were better than his stark nakedness. She dug around some more for a t-shirt, and then remembered with a pang of guilt that she'd cried herself to sleep with it the night prior. She snatched it off the bed; grey, wrinkled, and crumpled to all hell from gripping it all night. When she made her way back to the living room, she found the stranger right where she'd left him. It didn't go unnoticed that his gaze seemed to follow her every move, watching her, with some sort of amusement swimming in the unnatural blue irises.

"Here," she said, tossing the clothes down and purposefully covering his lap. "The least you could do is put this on. You're lucky I'm not calling the cops." The threat was empty, her fear now replaced by a careful curiosity. She walked around to front of the couch and sat down, facing forward, in an attempt to offer him privacy. "We'll have to go out tomorrow to get more stuff... And you know my name, but who are you?"

 

[Alkaline]

Chloe.

The demon mouthed the word, his tongue sliding over his lips after, before he pushed the word out of his lungs completely.

"Clo... Ee... Clooooooo... E. Chloe."

His mouth spread into an even wider grin, his fingers again reaching out to brush the backsides against her cheek almost longingly. A single finger stretched out and traced the rim of her ear before pulling away as he sat on his haunches and simply watched.

Stay.

She'd made the command before he could say anything further, and surprisingly, the demon felt compelled. Not stuck, completely, but compelled certainly. "I did. I came from the book. From the prison..." he added, slowly turning as she started to walk away. It was the only movement that he could easily do. He wanted to follow her though, and his eyes stared hungrily at her backside, dropping to her hips and the sway of her ass before she disappeared out of sight, leaving him to simply fall into a seated position instead and await her presence. He was sitting crisscross, picking at his nails when she returned. The clothes, tossed onto his lap, almost immediately made him scowl though, and he looked up at the woman with a hint of fire in his eyes.

Cautiously he lifted the sweatpants to his nose, his nose twitching with a sniff that caused his brow to furrow even deeper. "They stink. I don't want them," he snapped, though he still followed the instructions anyway. Standing, he slipped his feet into the leggings, pulling them up to his hip, and stretching the waistband out to let them snap back. The leggings only went three-quarters down his calf, and there was still a noticeable bulge where it hugged his cock, but he was technically no longer naked. The shirt was given the same treatment, a sniff, a skeptical look, but a slight smile as he rounded the couch to face her. "This one smells a little like you. It's better," he observed, before pulling it over his head, getting briefly stuck before an arm popped out the hole, and then tugged it down to cover his belly.

"And you may call me Ezrael. I believe that's the translation, in your language at least. You'd not be able to understand it on your own. Not sure you're even capable of speaking it," he said before spinning his back to her, then jumping back to splash onto the cushions next to her, bouncing before his weight tipped into her shoulder and settled. Ez's tongue licked quickly over his lips to wet them, and he leaned forward once more, his breath running over her neck again as he took in a slow inhale. "I like the way you smell."